


life in technicolor

by Remy (iamremy)



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011), Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/Remy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Random moments from the kaleidoscope that is Ethan Hunt and Will Brandt's shared life, both in the field and out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. quote unquote

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as drabbles I wrote [Sanjana](http://spnxbookworm.tumblr.com) for good days, bad days, Ethan/Will cravings, and just in general. I decided to compile them all here.
> 
> Also I'm kinda sad that An Imperfect Canvas is almost at an end, so there's that. Still, with this one there is pretty much no end in sight - as long as I'm writing Ethan/Will, this will keep being updated.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy these, and as always, feedback is much appreciated!

##  ** life in technicolor **

~remy

###  **ch. 1 - quote unquote**

Brassel's eyebrow twitches as he takes in the calm, indifferent demeanor of the analyst in his office. "Let me explain to you the severity of the situation," he says, slowly and firmly, trying to stay calm and composed himself. "Your team. Detonated. A bomb. In the middle of a crowded city square."

"We evacuated all the citizens, sir," Will tells him, shoving his hands in his pockets. "So the only ones left behind were Kan's minions... as in the people you sent us to take out. We were rather efficient, if I say so myself."

"Well, I disagree," says Brassel, as staunchly as he can manage. His eye gives another involuntary twitch when Will shifts from one foot to the other, looking... _bored_ , of all things. "You were never this... this flashy an agent, Brandt. Not before you joined Hunt's team."

Will shrugs again. "I do what I can sir. Sometimes it's flashy and sometimes it's not."

"Dear Lord, he's quoting Hunt at me now," groans Brassel to himself, and Will fights to hide a grin. This just irks the Director some more. "Look, Brandt," he tries. "Secrecy is a thing, you know. There's a reason we don't do what we do in broad daylight."

"We kind of do a _lot_ in broad daylight," Will points out.

"I'm talking about _normal_ agents," says Brassel through gritted teeth. "Not you clowns."

Will's grin is more obvious this time.

"Dammit," sighs Brassel. "Okay, you know what. Just don't do it again, all right? I've _had_ it with going to meetings and trying to explain the shit you guys get up to. CIA's getting pissy about it now." The more colloquial language is a rapid departure from Brassel's usual formal, clipped tones, but he's beginning to feel a throbbing in his head and he's so, so tired, and all he wants to do is go home to bed where (hopefully) there will be no Ethan Hunt or Will Brandt to make him regret every choice in his life that's led to this moment.

He says "hopefully", because the two of them have been known to wake him up in the middle of the night because there's a nuclear weapon somewhere or someone killed someone important, or, in one rather memorable case... because he forgot his cell phone at work. They're pretty much the reason Brassel has updated his security at home, and continues to oversee and change the protocols and passwords himself, every week. No way in hell is he going to suffer through the embarrassment of Ethan Hunt grinning at him and telling him how easy it was to disable the alarm system -  _again_.

"I'll try, sir, but sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do," Will replies, shrugging again. "Do you want me to let Ethan know, or...?"

"No, I'll talk to him myself," Brassel replies, massaging his temples. "You can go now, Brandt."

* * *

Ethan is waiting just outside the office, and Will grins when he sees him. "I kinda feel bad for the guy," he comments. "If he dies of a coronary, you can bet your ass the reason will be us."

Ethan shrugs, unconcerned. "Then he should know better than to put me, you and Jane anywhere near explosives and bad people."

"Also true," says Will happily, leaning in to kiss Ethan. Ethan responds, before wrapping his arm around Will's shoulders.

"Did he say anything about me?"

"Yeah, apparently I quote you a lot." Will snickers. "Also, he wants to see you."

"Dammit," groans Ethan. "I'm in no mood for listening to bullshit I've heard many times before."

"Suck it up," grins Will, poking Ethan in the side before shrugging out from under his arm. "I'll see you later, okay? Try not to give Brassel a heart attack."

Ethan feigns an innocent look. "So I should probably not mention the H-bomb?" he says, opening the door to Brassel's office.

"The _WHAT_?" roars Brassel from within, and Will stifles a laugh into his hand as Ethan enters the office, a smirk on his face.


	2. mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are being increasingly awkward and uncomfortable around Will one morning, and he wants to know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have _no_ excuse, _none_. Here, just have this pointless bit of fluff.

###  **ch. 2 - mark**

Will hasn't been this self-conscious in a very long time, not since he met Ethan and finally came to accept the fact that his appearance didn't matter to anyone else as long as Ethan loved it. Still, that's kind of hard to remember when everyone he's met this morning has done a double take upon seeing him, their eyes trailing up and down his body before they forced out a greeting and hurried away. He doesn't give it much thought initially, just makes his way to his office and settles in to work, immediately putting it out of his mind when the computer screen lights up.

It's brought to his mind again when the door to his office opens and one of his interns pops her head in. She's a young girl, around twenty-five, short and well-built, brown hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looks at him through hipster glasses that Will knows for a fact she doesn't need, but they look good on her so she wears them anyway (and he has to admire that kind of confidence in one's appearance). "Hey, Mr. Brandt-"

"It's Will," he corrects with a small smile. "What's up, Sandy?"

"Just wanted to turn my report in," she says, stepping inside, a bright neon yellow file in her hands, setting off her black nail polish. It's a bit eye-watering, to be honest, but hey, if she's happy with how she looks, who's he to complain? More power to her.

"All right, let me take a look," Will says, accepting the file when she hands it to him and flipping through it. "Looks good, Sandy. Thank you."

She nods. "Uh, Will?"

He looks up from the report he's now scanning through a bit more slowly. "Yeah?"

She looks a bit uncomfortable, which is new - she's usually so self-assured and comfortable in her own skin. "Um..." She bites her bottom lip, clearly hesitating to tell him whatever it is she wants to tell him. "You, uh, you..."

"What is it?" prompts Will, now curious. What is it about him that has people so uncomfortable today, anyway? Something on his face? He resists the urge to make a face. He's a grown man, dammit, he's not going to sulk.

She furrows her brow, clearly trying to figure out the best way to explain to him. Her hands fly up to her collar, adjusting it, and at the same time she gives him a pointed look. He frowns back at her, his hand going up uncertainly to his own collar. "Sandy?" he says questioningly.

She tugs at her collar, still giving him the pointed look. When all he does is look askance at her, she gives up and blurts out, "Just look in a mirror, Will!"

He blinks. "O...kay?"

"Just do it," she says, turns and leaves, so quickly that his call of "wait!" dies on his lips. He watches her leave the door swinging behind her in her haste to get away, frowning at her retreating back. Huh. That's never happened before. And what did she mean, " _look in a mirror_ "?

Since there's no mirror nearby, Will unlocks his phone and turns on the front camera, narrowing his eyes at the image of himself on the screen. At first glance it seems nothing is out of the ordinary - he looks the same as he always has. Blue eyes, dark blond hair combed back, white dress shirt with the first button open, and - oh. _Oh_.

There it is, peeking out from under his collar, on the side of his neck a couple of inches below his left ear. Vaguely oval, bluish red and... yep. Yeah.

Fucking _hell_.

Or, to be more accurate, fucking Ethan.

* * *

Ethan looks up from his desk when his door bangs open and Will strides in, his face almost entirely blush-red. The first button of his shirt is undone, exposing his throat and the sides of his neck, and Ethan has to actually resist the urge to jump over his desk and right on Will. "Hey, honey," he says casually, like Will doesn't look as if he's just come rampaging through the building to find Ethan.

"Don't ' _hey, honey_ ' me," Will warns, coming to a stop in front of Ethan's desk and leaning on it, arms straight and palms flat on the tabletop, his face inches from Ethan's. "Are you even aware of what you've done?"

Ethan blinks. "Uh... depends on what it is."

Will stares at him in disbelief, before leaning back a little and tugging at the left side of his collar to pull it back, revealing-

"Oh." Ethan smirks. "I see."

"Oh yeah? Because _I_ didn't," Will tells him, crossing his arms. "No wonder the entire department looked at me weird this morning. I want to _die_."

"It's not that bad," begins Ethan, but Will, as he's prone to do, streamrollered right over him.

"I have. A big ass _hickey_. On my neck. Where everyone can see it." He runs a hand down his face. "At least put it in a place it's not visible?"

"Just so you know, I wasn't exactly thinking in terms of appropriate locations when I put it there," Ethan informs him, unable to help a grin. "And, as I recall, you had absolutely no complaints then."

"I still don't," Will tells him, clearly fighting a smile to Ethan's delight. "Just... it's kinda embarrassing, is all."

"Why?" questions Ethan. "I mean, appropriateness aside... what's so embarrassing about the world knowing that you get to have amazing, mindblowing sex on a regular basis?"

Will flushes pink, just like Ethan knew he would. "Don't flatter yourself," he mutters, but he's definitely hiding a smile behind his hand.

"Funny, that's not what you were saying last night," grins Ethan cheekily.

"Bastard," complains Will, still pink. It's cute as hell, thinks Ethan.

"No, seriously," he says, turning serious for a moment. "So what if people see it? This way they know not to touch you without me having to punch it into them. It's a win-win scenario, really." When Will rolls his eyes, Ethan continues, "look, babe, I don't care, you know? And neither should you. It's different from a bruise, it's... it's a mark that someone loves you enough to do that. To mark you, I guess." He quirks an eyebrow. "Which is exactly what I would have said if the bruises you put on my arms were in a more visible place."

"Jesus, you're incorrigible," Will mutters, but he's smiling outright now, no longer bothering to hide it behind his hand.

"Of course I am," grins Ethan. "Now - you got some time?"

"Yeah," Will answers. "Why?"

Ethan stands and goes around his desk so that he's standing right in Will's personal space, their faces inches apart, Ethan's hands coming up to bracket Will's waist. "I've got a few things in mind..."

Will grins, putting his hands on Ethan's shoulders. "Oh yeah? I'm very interested in these... things..." His words trail off in a quiet moan when Ethan attaches his lips to Will's neck.

* * *

And that is the story of how Will acquires not one but two hickeys, both visible above his collar, the evidence of what they've done also visible in his messy hair and rumpled clothes. And he gives not a single shit after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments section can also be utilized for telling me exactly how much of a trash queen I am being about these two. Thank.
> 
> Love,  
> Remy x


	3. the cost of protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't supposed to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sanjana prompted me, blame her for this one :p
> 
> Well, she actually told me I could choose between one of them being hurt, or fluff. She should know by now that when the Remy is presented with two options, the Remy always chooses the worse one.

###  ch. 3 - the cost of protection

It wasn't supposed to happen.

Ethan's mind keeps running through the same phrase, over and over again like a broken record, and he can't do anything to shake himself of this thought. It's been a constant refrain on his mind since it happened, well over a day ago, and no matter how hard he tries to compartmentalize, it doesn't work.

Not that he  _can_ compartmentalize when it comes to Will, anyway - his brain just short-circuits and gets stuck on one particular point, like now.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

He had it under control one minute, and the next it was chaos everywhere when his contact turned out to be armed to the teeth and raring to go. The former he was prepared for - the kind of men he had as contacts did not generally go anywhere without a small arsenal hidden on their person - but the latter took him by surprise. He'd known the guy for years, and they'd always been on - well, not  _friendly_ , but easy enough terms, and he has absolutely no idea what would compel the man to suddenly strap a bomb to himself and detonate it in the middle of the meeting.

For that matter, he has absolutely no idea what the fuck Will was doing there, or what would compel  _him_ to push Ethan out of harm's way and take the worst

 of the impact.

Ethan supposes they were lucky that the bomb was a poor one and didn't really do more than blast the guy to bits and destroy everything in a ten-meter radius - a distance it had taken Will and Ethan a mere three seconds to clear.

Well, Ethan. Will had still been in the blast zone, which, regardless of its pathetic size, was still a  _fucking blast zone_.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

So now Will's in the hospital, out cold ever since Ethan brought him in screaming at the peak of his overtaxed lungs. The list of injuries is quite extensive - broken arm (Ethan had seen his bone poke out of his skin, what the doctors called a compound fracture, and he had resisted the urge to lose his lunch all over his unconscious partner); an impressive concussion (which made the entire not waking up business a lot more worrisome that it would have been on its own); both legs also fractured (Ethan knows for a fact that he will never,  _ever_ forget the sight of Will's tibia sticking out of the side of his calf, his other leg bent at an unnatural angle just below the knee); the standard broken ribs (seven in all, and five had to be wired back together); plus second-degree burns on his face and arms.

And there's not a scratch on Ethan.

It wasn't supposed to fucking happen, Will shouldn't even have  _been_ there. He was supposed to be far away, chasing another lead, and Ethan was supposed to have finished the meeting with his contact in twenty minutes max. But Will has always had some kind of fucking sixth sense when it comes to Ethan, and according to Jane he'd just stopped short in the middle of whatever he'd been doing, uttered a curt "Take my lead for me" and then bolted out of the room like his feet were on fire.

Right to Ethan.

It wasn't supposed to happen, and no matter what anyone says, he won't leave 

Will's side and he won't eat or drink until he knows for sure that Will is going to be okay.

He  _has_ to be. There's no other possibility in Ethan's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments sections is a good place for telling me what a bad person I am.
> 
> Love,  
> Remy x


	4. domesticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan wakes up to find Will making breakfast while listening to the radio, and it suddenly hits him just how domestic his life is even in spite of everything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been _so busy_ with university and finals that all I've been able to do is think of ideas, without actually being able to write them down. Now I'm on winter break, and I SHALL WRITE.
> 
> So here, have this piece of tooth-rotting fluff in celebration of my return, or something. Also because you people demanded it.

###  **ch 4 - domesticity**

Ethan wakes up to find himself alone. Will's side of the bed is just a little warm, indicating he must have woken up some time ago. There is sunlight streaming in through the drawn curtains, and when Ethan looks at his phone he discovers it's five minutes past ten.

So they've slept in quite late, and Ethan's missed the window for his morning run, that blessedly quiet time early in the morning when there's no one outside and he can run in peace. He finds, to his surprise, that he doesn't really care.

He gets himself out of bed, pulling on a black tank top that was slung over a chair, where he'd put it the night before. He can hear Will in the kitchen, as well as the clatter and clink of pans and china and cutlery that indicate he must be making breakfast. There's another sound that Ethan can't quite make out, something low and rhythmic.

Without bothering with pants, slippers or even brushing his teeth just yet, Ethan makes his way to the kitchen, yawning and pushing his hair out of his eyes. Sure enough he finds Will there, singing quietly to himself along with the radio - the sound Ethan hadn't been able to make out from the bedroom - as he fries eggs and fiddles with the coffeemaker at the same time. He turns his head when he hears Ethan come in (no matter how stealthy Ethan is, Will always hears him coming, always knows when he's nearby), and smiles. "Morning."

"Morning," Ethan replies with a smile of his own, wrapping his arms around Will from behind and resting his chin on Will's shoulder. "Plotting to burn down the house, hm?"

Will chuckles, flicking Ethan's arm lightly before saying, "No, asshole, I was making you breakfast." He reaches out to grab a plate and load the finished egg on it, before setting it aside and taking the other egg from where he'd put it against a bowl. He manages to do all of this without breaking the embrace. Ethan watches him crack the egg and dump the contents in the pan.

"Been awake long?" he asks, his lips an inch from Will's ear.

"Around ten or so minutes," Will replies, turning his head sideways to kiss Ethan. "We slept in pretty late."

"So I noticed." Ethan presses his lips to a spot behind Will's ear, making him shiver. "Missed my morning run. Looks like I'll have to do some other form of exercise to make up for it."

Will laughs, the sound sweet in Ethan's ears. "You are so bad at being smooth. How? How can you seduce a rock if it's a mission but fail so terribly when you're not pretending?" He plates the second egg as well, before turning off the stove and moving towards the fridge. Refusing to let go, Ethan follows, attached to his back like a particularly persistent limpet.

"That's just you," he informs Will. "I wasn't this bad with anyone else."

"That's a dubious honor you've given me," Will replies, taking orange juice from the fridge and setting it down on the counter. "Now let go of me, I need to toast bread."

"Screw bread," Ethan mumbles, burying his face in Will's neck. "Forget the bread. I'm more important."

"Bread is also important," argues Will, prying Ethan's hands off from his abdomen. "Come on, Ethan. You spent the entire night stuck to me, surely you can spare a few minutes now."

"No," Ethan replies stubbornly, but Will just rolls his eyes fondly and pushes him down into a chair before putting the bread in the toaster. With an exaggerated sigh Ethan turns his attention to the radio, which he'd previously forgotten about. He fiddles with the knobs without really thinking about it, his mind somewhere else.

He's slept in. Will's making them breakfast, listening to the radio as he does so. Who even listens to the radio anymore? Will does. Of course Will does.

It hits Ethan like a bag of bricks, how domestic his life's become. He's never really been able to do this before, fill his days with things like laundry and cooking and watching TV late into the night. He's always been too restless, always felt too tied down before. And now he's sitting in the kitchen while his lover cooks, listening to some pop rock song on the radio that has lots of guitar and a guy who sounds more country than anything else.

He can't help but laugh a little at the fucking irony - that he found domesticity with Will the highly trained agent who could kill a person with a sock, of all people, as opposed to Julia the civilian who'd tried her best to give him the kind of life he'd craved, and only had hers destroyed in return.

He looks up to see Will putting the toast on the plates, and is seized by a sudden whim. Turning the volume of the radio higher, he stands and grabs Will's shoulder, and spins him around. "Hey-" begins Will, but stops when Ethan takes his hand in one of his own and puts the other on his wrist. "What are you doing?" he asks curiously.

Instead of replying, Ethan just laughs, beginning to move with the music, pulling Will with him. Still looking a little perplexed, Will goes with it, placing his free hand on Ethan's shoulder.

 _"When life leaves you high and dry_  
_I'll be at your door tonight  
_ _If you need help, if you need help."_

"Dance with me," Ethan says, a little loudly so he can be heard over the song. "Forget everything else. Just dance with me."

"Seems I already am," Will replies, but he's laughing a little at Ethan's enthusiasm as he moves the both of them all over the kitchen, taking care to avoid crashing into anything.

 _"I'll shut down the city lights_  
_I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bribe  
_ _To make you well, to make you well."_

"What's gotten into you?" Will asks, yelping as Ethan dips him without warning but doesn't let him fall. Ethan never lets him fall.

"I just want to," Ethan replies with a smile, pulling him back up and kissing him. "I just really,  _really_ want to."

Will kisses him back, smiling against his mouth. "All right," he says a moment later.

_"Give me reason to believe  
That you would do the same for me_   
_And I will do it for you, for you_   
_Baby I'm not moving on, I'll love you long after you're gone._   
_For you, for you_   
_You will never sleep alone, I'll love you long after you're gone_   
_Long after you're gone, gone, gone."_

Ethan lets go of Will's waist and spins him, making him laugh, before pulling him back to himself. Except now they're chest-to-back again, and when Ethan wraps his arms around Will this time it's as if he has no intention of letting go in the near future.

"The breakfast's getting cold," Will murmurs. Ethan has no difficulty hearing him thanks to his face pressed to Will's.

"I don't care," he replies, swaying along with the music, taking Will with him. "We can heat it."

"Eggs explode in the microwave," Will informs Ethan with a laugh.

"Really?" Ethan is surprised. "I didn't know that."

"I know it from experience," Will tells him. "Tried it in college and ended up nearly burning my dorm down."

"You're a menace," Ethan laughs. "This is why I'm always scared when you're in the kitchen."

"I'll have you know I once managed to save a mission by exploding an egg," Will huffs at him, but he's grinning.

"That's one story I've got to hear," Ethan says, nipping at his earlobe, "but later. Definitely later."

Will manages to suppress his shiver, but just barely. "Later when?" he asks, voice low.

"Just later," Ethan replies with a smirk and a kiss to his jawline.

 _"You're my backbone, you're my cornerstone  
__You're my crutch when my legs stop moving  
__You're my head start, you're my rugged heart  
__You're the pulse that I've always needed.  
__Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating  
__Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating_  
_Like a drum, baby, don't stop beating_  
 _Like a drum my heart never stops beating_  
 _For you, for you..."_

Will turns in Ethan's arms and wraps his own around Ethan's neck, pressing close to him so that they're chest-to-chest and their foreheads are touching. The song still isn't over and so they're still moving, but it's much slower than before even though it's going against the tempo of the song. Neither care though; the radio could be in another universe right now for all the attention they're paying it.

"I just never thought I could have all this," Ethan whispers, closing his eyes, feeling Will's breath across his face. "This... domesticity. Look at us. There are no bombs exploding, no car chases, and the world isn't ending, and I'm...  _happy_. I'm happy even though I'm doing nothing."

"Well, get used to it," Will replies, curling his fingers in the ends of Ethan's hair, at the base of his neck. "Because I have no intention of letting any of this change."

"Good," Ethan says. "Neither do I. Ever."

 _"Long after you're gone, gone, gone...  
_ _I'll love you long after you're gone, gone... gone."_

They don't separate even when the song ends. They don't move until the coffeemaker  _dings_ to let them know it's done. Sure enough the eggs and toast have gone cold, but neither seem to care - they completely ignore the DJ talking excitedly on the radio, and the orange juice, and the coffeemaker, and the eggs and toast, and everything except for each other.

And later, after Ethan's managed to make up for missing his morning run by having sex with Will up against the living room wall (because he was too impatient to get back to the bedroom), he kisses Will's forehead and whispers, "Thank you."

And Will smiles and says "What're you thanking me for, dumbass?" with fond exasperation, and Ethan falls in love with him all over again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song they danced to (rather badly, I imagine) is _[Gone, Gone, Gone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oozQ4yV__Vw)_ by Phillip Phillips - one of my absolute favorites.
> 
> All complaints about fluff-induced toothache, as well as scheduling of dentist appointments, can be done in the comments section. It fits and all, seeing as how I'm a dental surgery student.
> 
> Love,  
> Remy x


	5. budge the fuck up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Ethan watch _Titanic_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I asked Sanjana ([spnxbookworm](http://spnxbookworm.tumblr.com/)) - "Which one of them cries at sad movies?"
> 
> And whelp, here it is.

###  ch. 5 - budge the fuck up

Ethan hands Will a cup of coffee and sits down next to him on the couch, cradling his own cup. "What're we watching?"

One hand emerges from the tight cocoon of blankets that Will's wrapped himself in, and takes the coffee. " _Titanic_ ," he answers, wriggling so he can lean against Ethan without having to come out of the blankets.

"Why?" questions Ethan, sipping his coffee, squirming a little as Will's sock-clad feet dig into a ticklish spot.

"Because, would you believe it, I've never actually seen it," Will replies. He puts his cup on the coffee table and untangles himself from the blankets, before proceeding to wrap himself around Ethan more properly. Ethan lets him, amused at his efforts to simultaneously curl up under Ethan's arm and re-wrap himself in the blankets.

"Why so many blankets?" he asks when Will finally settles.

"Because it's cold," Will replies, taking back his coffee cup. It really is, it being nearly Christmas and all, but Ethan isn't feeling it that much. Then again, Will's the kind of person whose teeth begin chattering in the rain even when it's not even that cold.

"Have you really not seen  _Titanic_ , though?"

"Yeah. I have no idea how I made it to my adult life without having seen it, but there you go."

"It's really not that great," Ethan tells him. "Vastly overrated, in my opinion."

Will snorts. "You think every movie that doesn't have at least ten explosions sucks."

"Hey, that's not true," Ethan protests. "I liked  _Interstellar_."

"Well yeah, because it had space and shit," Will replies. "You like space movies. Now shush, it's beginning."

"Seriously,  _Titanic_ isn't that great, let's watch something else," Ethan tries again.

"No, I want to watch this at least once before I die," Will replies. "We'll watch  _Star Trek_ after if you want, but let's watch this now."

Accepting the compromise, Ethan sips his coffee again and settles down to watch  _Titanic_.

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait," Will says, and pauses the movie. "She wants to kill herself because... she's rich? What is this crap?"

"I told you," Ethan tells him. "Seriously, let's just watch something else."

"No, I want to see this through to the end," Will replies, leaning so his head is pillowed on Ethan's arm. 

"Fine," sighs Ethan.

* * *

"Her mother's a bitch."

"Yeah, she is."

"Seriously, how cliche is this? Rich girl falls in love with poor boy who gives her a new perspective on things. Mother and rich fiance disapprove."

"Glad you think so. Can we watch  _Star Trek_ now?"

"No. Why are you so insistent on watching something else?"

"Because this movie is a waste of time."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Ugh, okay."

* * *

"So... rich fiance frames poor boy. Why am I not surprised?"

"Because it's cliche and pathetic."

"I'm still going to watch it to the end."

Ethan sighs. "Of course you are."

* * *

Rose is lying on a wooden door and Jack is freezing to death in the cold waters of the Atlantic, and Will is absolutely riveted. He abandoned the blankets a long time ago, and is now sitting right on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward, eyes stuck to the screen.

"I love you, Jack," Rose is saying.

"Don't you do that," Jack says, "don't say your good-byes. Not yet, do you understand me?"

"I'm so cold," Rose says.

"Says the lady safe above water," mutters Will.

"Promise me you'll survive," Jack is saying now, looking all earnest and determined and half-dead, honestly. "That you won't give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise."

Rose promises.

"Never let go," says Jack.

"I'll never let go, Jack. I'll never let go."

But then he's dead, and she lets go, and he's sinking. Will lets out a snort of disgust and leans back against the couch. "What the fuck. That totally could have been avoided."

He's expecting Ethan to say "I told you so" and maybe grumble about wasted time, but what he gets instead is a small sniff. He turns to find Ethan clutching Will's discarded blanket to his face, sniffing quietly into it, eyes brimming.

"Ethan?" Will is dumbfounded. "Are you... are you  _crying_?"

"No, Will," Ethan replies, tone dangerously watery, "I'm laughing because he died.  _Yes,_ I'm crying!"

"But-" Will flounders. It's not that he's never seen Ethan cry before, or even that he doesn't know what to do. It's just that he's never seen Ethan cry at a  _movie_ before. "You said this movie was overrated and a waste of time," he says, his brain feeling like it's going to implode from the implausibility of the situation.

"I said that so you'd watch something else," Ethan tells him, blinking rapidly as if it'll make the tears go away. "But you were adamant."

"Shit, Ethan, I didn't know it'd make you  _cry_ ," Will replies, beginning to feel a little bad even though he knows logically it isn't his fault. He shifts closer to Ethan and wraps his arms around his middle, leaning his head on Ethan's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be ridiculous, it's not your fault," Ethan replies, leaning his head on top of Will's and returning the hug. "I just hate movies where someone dies and leaves a person behind. It's so utterly  _sad_."

"Didn't peg you as the type, honestly," Will mutters. "Thought you'd scoff at this kind of movie."

"Normally I do, but this one is just." Ethan wipes his eyes with the blanket. " _Ridiculously sad_."

Will frowns. "I'm gonna have to disagree."

"Why?" Ethan sounds shocked. "You didn't think it was sad?"

"Of course it was sad," Will says, "but look, it was totally avoidable! This would not have happened if she'd let him get on the thing with her! She should have promised to budge the fuck up, not to  _not let go,_ what bullshit, she let go in the end anyway!"

"Well, he  _was_ dead," Ethan points out, thankfully no longer crying. "What was she supposed to do, carry his corpse around?"

Will unwraps his arms from around Ethan's middle to wave them about emphatically. "If she'd just made space for him, there wouldn't have been a corpse in the first place! If this was me and you, you bet your ass I'd make space for you, or jump in myself."

"I wouldn't let you, though," Ethan points out. "Jump in, that is."

"Please, like you could stop me," dismisses Will. "My point is, he need not have died."

"Maybe he would have anyway," Ethan says.

"Well, that's okay, maybe that would have been unavoidable," Will says. "You know what - Cal should have killed him, that would have made more sense."

"Isn't this more tragic, though?" argues Ethan.

"Ethan, it's  _pointlessly_ tragic," Will retorts.

Ethan considers this for a moment. "I don't agree with you," he says finally. "But. Arguing with you has killed the sadness of the moment anyway."

"Excellent," Will says. "The only movie I want you crying at is  _The Lion King_."

Ethan looks confused. "That's a kids' movie."

"Still tragic. And proper tragic, not this fake-ass  _I love you but I won't make space for you_ kind of tragic."

"Will," Ethan sighs, but clearly gives up. "Can we just watch  _Star Trek_ now? At least that one won't make me cry."

* * *

Wrong. They're so wrong. It's  _Star Trek: Into Darkness_ and by the time Spock is crying and screaming "KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN" they're both clutching each other and sniffing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, we decided Ethan's the one who is likelier to cry at sad movies. I feel like Will would rationalize the sadness away while Ethan would be an emotional mess.
> 
> There's a very convenient box below that lets you tell me what you thought of the chapter.
> 
> Love,  
> Remy x


	6. a test of resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coda to Rogue Nation - Ethan and Will talk about Vienna and Morocco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! But this is something I've been meaning to write for a long time now. Enjoy!

It's the lazy summer afternoons that Will loves the most, the ones where they just stay in and do absolutely nothing. It's the middle of July and the aircon's finally given up on life in a huff of dusty air that was nowhere near cold, and until they can get it fixed they're just wandering around in thin shirts and shorts, drinking lots of cold water and practically living off ice cream. The plus side is that they're more hydrated than they've ever been in their lives, probably. The downside is that the gallons of ice cream have them in food comas most of the time, collapsed side by side on the sofa in front of the TV, or any other cool surface.

Today they're spending their morning lying side by side on their bed, the bedroom window open thanks to their unfailing optimism and hopes that it will let some cool air in. Ethan changed the sheets this morning and they're cool and comfortable against the bare skin of their arms and legs, providing some relief from the stifling heat. They've been up for a couple of hours now but have nothing to do - there's nothing on TV, and neither are up to driving or walking somewhere, feeling lazy and sleepy from the heat even though they're well-rested.

Will yawns and closes his eyes, letting out a content sigh. "Ice cream for breakfast. I have  _so many regrets_."

Ethan chuckles, his hand coming over to rest on Will's thigh, thumb snaking under the edge of his boxers. "No you don't."

"No, I don't," Will agrees with a laugh of his own, wrapping his own arm around Ethan's leg. "I kinda like being all lazy and unproductive, for once. It's a nice change."

"God knows we deserve it," adds Ethan, and Will has to agree. It's been months since the entire shitstorm with the Syndicate but some mornings he still wakes up tired and fatigued beyond reason, and sometimes it takes him a few moments before he remembers he's no longer sleeping alone, that Ethan is in bed next to him and not going anywhere.

Will hums lazily in agreement, and yawns again. "You deserve it more, though, after everything. Shit, how you didn't go fucking insane is beyond me."

"I had my moments," admits Ethan. "Biggest one in Vienna."

"When you called Benji?" questions Will, opening his eyes to look at Ethan.

"No." Ethan shakes his head. "Before that. I set everything up, and then it was just the question of figuring out who to call. And as much as I love Benji, he wasn't my first choice."

"No?" Will is surprised. This is the first time they've talked about it, and before this he's always assumed that Ethan had called Benji specifically for Benji's skillset and because Benji would be the one who would actually be able to go.

"No," confirms Ethan. "It was you, actually."

"Me?" Will blinks. "So why didn't you-"

The words come out of Ethan in a rush. "Because I knew if I saw you and heard your voice so close to me, I'd definitely go insane. I'd end up ruining everything because I wouldn't be able to stop myself from going to you. I'd compromise everything I'd worked on,  _everything_ , just to be able to touch you."

Will remains quiet, not knowing what to say to that, but there is a warmth that's started in his chest and is now filling him up from the inside out, something comforting and  _safe_. He hasn't meant that much to anyone for a long time, and the feeling is exquisite, something exciting and relaxing and safe and thrilling all at once, something he can hide within himself to keep himself warm.

"I couldn't have resisted," Ethan says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm not sure I can pass that kind of test of my resolve."

"So then in Morocco..." Will trails off, prompting Ethan to continue.

"You have no idea," Ethan tells him. "It took everything I had not to jump you then and there. Not least because Luther and Benji wouldn't have appreciated it."

Will laughs, loud and open. "No, I get it," he says, "the mission had to come first. But you're wrong if you think I have no idea what it felt like, you know."

"I know." Ethan's smile is warm and soft as he gets up and repositions himself so that they're face to face. "I know," he says again, and leans in to kiss Will.

* * *

It's the lazy summer afternoons, and waking up with his legs tangled with Ethan's and the sheets, that remind Will he's home again, and that Ethan's with him and not going anywhere, and it's in those moments that Will breathes easier and his heart feels fuller, and he knows that without all of this, he's not himself and he can't be. This is  _home_ and  _Ethan_ and feeling complete, and he wouldn't give it up again, not for anything in the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody is interesting in joining a group chat on Telegram where we can all sob about these idiots and just have fun, click [here](https://telegram.me/joinchat/BAK4QgbzvTjSS0NSFhmisw). We're all pretty awesome people in the chat!
> 
> Take care,  
> Remy x


	7. ethan of suburbia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To say that Ethan is ill-suited to life as a suburbanite is a huge understatement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, hope you're all doing well <3 I'm good myself, just been busy a lot thanks to uni and real life, and also because I'm writing a book (or trying to lmao). Anyway, this came into my head while I was writing my other current Ethan/Will story, and refused to leave. I couldn't make this angsty, though, I just couldn't. Even I need humor every once in a while :p
> 
> So without further ado - I present you, of all things, white!upper-middle-class!suburban!Ethan xD

**ethan of suburbia**

To say that Ethan is ill-suited to life as a suburbanite is a huge understatement.

It's not the neighborhood that's the issue, not with its perfect lawns and perfect fences and perfect everything. It's definitely not the house, which is huge and spacious and lovely (and has a basement full of weapons that would make any self-respecting superspy cry with delight). It's also not the cars, which they've got plenty of.

It's the damned  _neighbors_.

Will, of course, gets along just fine with them. He gets along fine with most people, because he is a genius and a very patient man who can keep his irritation hidden away even as he pretends to be polite and tells Helen her pie tastes great. So yes, Will doesn't really have a problem with the neighbors (his problems with their parking skills, on the other hand, are extensive and varied).

Ethan, however, can't  _stand_ them. Helen and her stupid pie pisses him off. Roger and his golf obsession is bordering on unbearable now. Susan's insistence that vaccines cause autism makes him want to slam his head in a wall repeatedly until he passes out (even brain damage would be welcome at this point). Jessie's book club is boring as fuck, and Ethan doesn't know how to tell her that a) he doesn't want to be in it, and b)  _The Catcher in the Rye_ makes no fucking sense to him anyway.

The worst, however, has to be the couple next door, the McCauleys, and their cougar-like tendencies. Not cougar like the cat - Ethan might have respected them if they had half the lethal grace and power that cougars possess. Nope, he means cougars, as in, they're in their seventies, and they  _won't stop hitting on Will_.

Will takes it good-naturedly, deftly dodging Mrs. McCauley's hands as they try to pinch his behind, and subtly moving out of Mr. McCauley's way so he won't try to drape himself over Will's back and cop a feel that way. Ethan, on the other hand, sees red every time he so much as lays eyes on the geriatric perverts, and tends to end up growling in the back of his throat and putting a possessive arm around Will's shoulders. If he's extra angry, he kisses Will right there, in the middle of the street.

"They're harmless, you know," Will tries to convince him one day, even as he laughs at Ethan's attempts to take his clothes off in their driveway. "They don't mean anything by it."

"Will, you spent all morning staying out of reach of both of them," Ethan reminds him, slipping a hand under his shirt, ignoring Mrs. McCauley's scandalized gasp from across the fence. "And also, they asked you yesterday if you were into threesomes, and if age differences mattered to you. I'm pretty sure they mean  _all the perverted things_ by it."

Will just laughs. "Are you feeling threatened?"

"No," snaps Ethan. "I just don't like it, okay? No one gets to hit on you but me." And with that, he takes Will's hand and leads him back into the house to finish what he started in the front yard.

* * *

Then there's Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner, who live on the other side of their house. The two of them turn their noses up at Will and Ethan every time they see them, and once Mrs. Faulker told Will he's going to hell just because he'd held Ethan's hand as they walked from the car to their door after a grocery shopping trip. Even Will can't stand them, they're that self-righteous and irritating.

"You know who goes to hell?" Will asks Mrs. Faulkner one morning, when she informs him he's a damned soul because of his "ho-mo-sex-alty". "People who let their dogs shit in other people's yards."

She has nothing to say to that, but she does yank on her dog's leash to prevent him shitting into their yard as he was about to a moment prior. Will smiles in satisfaction as she drags Rover away and sighs angrily at the prospect of having to scoop up his crap from her own yard.

* * *

And then, last but not least, are the awful drivers, who take up two spaces with one car, manage to inevitably crash into something while reversing, and also, block the driveway with their inappropriate parking. The first few times it happened, Will and Ethan politely asked the owners of the huge black Cadillac Escalade to park somewhere else. When that didn't work, Will took to hotwiring the car and personally driving it away. That doesn't work either - the car keeps coming back and blocking their driveway.

Ethan loses it one day.

* * *

_It_ being his sanity, of course.

When Helen comes over with a Tupperware container full of pie, he slams the door in her face and yells "YOUR PIES ARE ALWAYS UNDERCOOKED!" through the mail slot. Roger  
tries to strike up a conversation about mini golf versus regular golf, and Ethan's response is "If you don't shut the fuck up right now I'm going to shove your precious club so far up your ass it'll tickle your tonsils." Susan tries to tell him he's overly aggressive probably because of the Hep B vaccine he got as a child, and he says, "Whatever you say, Susan, but don't go crying to a doctor when you're dying of the common cold, you idiot." Will can only watch in helpless, mute horror as Ethan rips up Jessie's copy of  _The Catcher in the Rye_ and tells her she can shove it where the sun doesn't shine.

"You really don't like living here, do you," he sighs once he's got Ethan calmed down. They're sitting in the lawn chairs overlooking the street; it's almost twilight and the sleepy summer warmth in the air is nice and pleasant.

"No," Ethan all but yells. "It's  _horrible_. Look at them, Will!" He gestures expansively, as if trying to encompass the awfulness of their neighbors in one sweep of his arm. "They're  _monsters_!"

"They're not all bad, honestly," Will says. "You know you made Helen cry."

"Her pie made me sick, it's justice," sniffs Ethan, feeling vindicated. "And don't even start about Roger and Susan and Jessie and the rest of them. I'm so ready to move out of this neighborhood. Hell, let's go  _now_."

Will puts on a fake expression of alarm at the very idea. "But we can't! Who will the McCauleys grope if we leave?"

Ethan's response is an angry noise in the back of his throat. "They lay a hand on you and I'm feeding them C4."

"Ethan,  _no_." Will wants to be horrified at the lengths his husband is willing to go to just to escape this place, but he really can't do much more than laugh weakly. "Leave the geriatric pervs alone..."

"Why can't they just, I don't know, take out their collection of classic Playboys or something?" grumbles Ethan.

Will laughs. "I'd say ask them, but they'd take it as consent for a foursome," he points out. Ethan just sighs, very much put-upon and irritated with his life at the moment.

* * *

There is a mysterious outbreak of bedbugs in the McCauley house a couple of days later. Will points his suspicions towards Ethan, as true in his revenge as any North Star. He categorically denies everything, but can't really hide the grin on his face as he watches Mr. McCauley limp towards his car, scratching his ass aggressively as he goes.

The Faulkners' dog, Rover, vanishes. This one is all Will - the dog deserves a better home than with some homophobic nuts who feed him a vegan diet and won't take him to the vet for any reason whatsoever. Ethan is quite proud of Will, and tells him so quite emphatically on their way back from the dog shelter. With his mouth on Will's and his hands under his shirt. Will, somehow, can't find it within himself to protest against having sex in the car in their driveway, especially seeing as the Faulkners spot them and damn near faint where they're standing. It's all worth the backache they both end up with later on.

The black Cadillac Escalade just up and vanishes. It turns up three weeks later, upended in a ditch in New Mexico, and no one,  _no one_ (with the exception, perhaps, of the superspies living in Number 3) can explain how it got there. Ethan looks quite pleased with himself, up until the neighbor in question buys a Range Rover to replace the Escalade. Then he's not so amused anymore.

* * *

They end up moving away, anyway - Ethan's ruined all hope of good relations with their neighbors, and Will was getting tired of them and their slack-jawed, placid lifestyles and pretenses anyway. This time they buy a house in the city, somewhere nice and noisy where they have to hunt for parking space and beg their neighbors through the walls to keep the noise down. Johnny next door is a weed dealer who is always high, and Martha on the other side is a convict who was in jail for shanking a guy who looked at her wrong. Will is almost completely sure that Brenda down the hall is running a black-market spare laptop parts dealership out of her living-room.

Both of them love it here.

(Ethan especially, as no one tries to feed him bad pie or grope his husband.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Feedback? Anything? Let me know in the comments below <3
> 
> Love,  
> Remy x


	8. Snot and Tissue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan gets the flu and becomes even more difficult to handle than usual. Will considers knocking him out, and maybe also setting up a tissue paper factory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have the flu. someone needs to suffer. it's ethan's turn :D

**Snot and Tissue**

Will did not know how someone so short could hold so much snot inside them. He grimaces at the sounds of Ethan blowing his nose in the bathroom sink, sounding more and more like a particularly bad-tempered foghorn as he does so. There are balled up wads of tissue paper  _everywhere_ \- Will sits down on his side of the bed and promptly extricates one from under his ass.

"I got you a bin," he says to Ethan by way of greeting when Ethan finally emerges from the bathroom, nose red in contrast to the rest of his pale face. "Least you could do is throw the tissues in it."

"It's full," Ethan rasps, looking as if even speaking is painful. "Also, it's more satisfying to throw them everywhere."

"You," Will tells him with a sigh, "are a brat."

Ethan glares at him before settling back in bed. "I'm bored," he whines. "Let's go out somewhere."

"You need rest," Will says. "We're not going anywhere till you can take more than ten steps in a straight line."

"I'm  _fine_ ," Ethan insists, sniffing. "It's just a little cold."

"You ran through ten boxes of tissue in half a day."

"It's like that, sometimes."

Will snorts at the reply. "Sure." He stands again, pretending he doesn't notice the pile of tissues that are jolted loose by his movement and currently cascading off the bed. "I'm gonna make you some tea," he declares, and kisses Ethan's forehead. "At least your fever's down," he offers by way of consolation.

"Yay," grumbles Ethan, looking not at all appeased. Will chuckles and leaves him to it.

* * *

He returns ten minutes later with the tea to find Ethan curled up under the blanket, looking abjectly miserable. Will sets the tea down on the side table and sits next to Ethan, asking, "What's wrong?"

"I wish to die," Ethan informs him solemnly. "Please, euthanize me. It'll be a mercy."

Will rolls his eyes. "There's no need to be so dramatic," he tells Ethan. "If you can handle a gunshot wound without batting an eyelid, you can handle a cold without being a baby."

"Gunshots are easier to deal with," Ethan insists. "At least my nose is clear when I'm shot."

"Yeah but I'd rather have a blocked nose than a bullet in my leg." Will shrugs. "Maybe that's just me, though. Drink your tea."

Ethan complies, surprisingly enough. Will doesn't have enough time to appreciate it, however; the moment Ethan takes a sip his whole face contorts and he mutters, "Why is there so much ginger?"

"It's only a bit, and it's good for your throat," Will tells him. "Drink up."

"I don't want to," Ethan says, his voice making the words sound childish and insistent. "I just want to  _die_."

"Nope, not happening," Will says. "I'm not saving your ass on missions just to have you die over a stupid cold, you hear? Now drink the tea, or so help me, I will  _make_ you drink it." He's reaching the end of his patience; it's been three days of Ethan moping and complaining, of Will stepping on snotty tissues whenever he wants to pee in the middle of the night, and he is  _done_.

Grumbling, Ethan drinks the tea, but makes sure Will can tell he's not happy about it. Will would record this if he wasn't currently occupied with making sure Ethan didn't try to dupe him in some way; it is quite the amusing sight.

"You're enjoying this," Ethan accuses him when he's done with his tea, grimacing.

"Oh,  _immensely_ ," Will says, grinning. They both know he's only joking, though.

* * *

Will wakes in the middle of the night to sound of choking, and immediately he is on red alert. Quickly he turns on the lamp on his side and turns to face Ethan, who is sitting up in bed and coughing aggressively, sounding like he is positively drowning in his own mucus. His face is red and his eyes are watering, his chest heaving, and Will's heart sort of breaks for him.

"Oh, Ethan," he murmurs, reaching out to rub circles into his back. His skin is hot to the touch, his clothes damp with sweat. "Let me get you a new shirt," he says, making to get out of bed.

Ethan grabs hold of his wrist, stopping him. "Stay," he rasps. "I'm okay," he adds, taking Will's hand. "Really."

Will leans in and kisses Ethan, not caring at all about how gross it is and how he's probably going to get sick as well. "If you say so," he says. "Your shirt's a mess, though."

"I'm okay," Ethan repeats, voice hoarse, and oh, how Will misses his real voice. "I promise."

Will relaxes. "Okay," he says. "Okay. Just - let me get you water, or something, Jesus, Ethan-"

Ethan acquiesces to that, so Will uses it as an excuse to get him another shirt as well. Even though he'd been protesting earlier, Ethan looks grateful as he changes and drinks the water, and Will smiles at him as he gets back into bed. "You're gonna be better soon," he tells Ethan when Ethan is done. "You're gonna be fine."

Ethan sets aside the empty glass and lies back down, shifting closer to Will and throwing an arm and a leg over him. "I know," he says, his voice vibrating in his chest so that Will can feel it against his own chest.

Will kisses his sweaty forehead. "Go to sleep," he says, wrapping an arm around Ethan's middle. "You'll be better in the morning."

"I know," Ethan repeats. Within a few minutes he's asleep, breathing deeply in Will's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought <3
> 
> love,  
> remy x


	9. gym class heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always a sight to behold, whenever Agents Hunt and Brandt work out together in IMF's training room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! it's been a while, hasn't it? i've missed writing for this fandom (and writing fanfic in general lmao)
> 
> this chapter is a treat to myself, for managing to write 50k words of my book, and to everyone in this fandom, because i love you all <3
> 
> (and also because we all want sweaty superspies, let's be real here)
> 
> EDIT: OH MY GODDD THESE DAMN PICTURES WON'T DO WHAT I WANT THEM TO. FINE THEN, BE THAT WAY. SEE IF I CARE.

**gym class heroes**

Ethan grins as he dodges the flurry of punches and kicks Will aims at him, weaving in and out so fast he's almost a blur. He manages to get a hit in every now and then, but Will's no slowpoke and he blocks and counters, giving as good as he gets.

"Shit," pants Ethan as he ducks a hit that most definitely would have necessitated some expensive dental work, "you're not really holding back, are you?"

"Don't see a reason to," Will replies with a smirk, moving out of the way of a well-executed roundhouse kick and sneaking in a jab to Ethan's ribs. " _You're_ not."

"I don't need to," Ethan replies, retaliating with a sharp hit to the back of Will's knee, causing him to stumble. The conversation pauses as Will regains his footing remarkably quickly and returns the favor by aiming for Ethan's nose. Ethan only moves aside at the last moment, grabbing Will's arm and using Will's own momentum against him, shoving him into a wall. Will hits it sideways with a muffled " _oof!"_ as the air is knocked out of him, but Ethan doesn't have too long to feel triumphant - his partner is back in a second with a devastating elbow aimed for his kidney. He turns just at the last second and manages to avoid most of the damage, but he's damn sure he's going to bruise.

"You were saying?" Will prompts, grinning at Ethan as they face each other, arms up and legs apart, each waiting for the other to move first.

"I don't need to hold back," Ethan says, keeping his eyes trained on Will. "I don't have to worry about hurting you."

"You warm my heart," Will replies dryly, wiping sweat off his forehead with his wristband.

"As you do mine," Ethan returns, grinning. They stare each other down for a few minutes, neither willing to capitulate - until Ethan straightens and says, "Well, clearly we're not getting anywhere like this. We're too evenly matched, and I'd like to end this before I lose a vital organ."

Will nods, posture relaxing. He takes a couple steps towards Ethan and bumps fists with him, before reaching for his water bottle on a bench nearby. "Good match, though," he comments after a long drink. "It's been a while since I actually had to work hard while sparring."

Ethan snorts. "Don't let the trainers hear you saying that."

Will rolls his eyes. "Please. I haven't trained with one of them in  _years_."

"Why?" asks Ethan curiously. "Not good enough for you?"

"At the risk of sounding conceited... yes," replies Will evenly. "It wasn't challenging, and I wasn't improving."

That earns him a nod from Ethan. "I know what you mean," he says. "I haven't had a good sparring partner in years, either, not until you and Jane. Used to spar with Hanaway sometimes, but he was predictable, bless him. I always knew what he was going to do before he did it."

"I didn't really have a sparring partner before you and Jane," Will tells him. "No one wanted to spar with me."

"Can't blame them," grins Ethan, nudging Will with his elbow. "No one likes getting their ass handed to them."

Will scoffs. "And yet here you are," he teases.

"Yet here I am," Ethan echoes, still smiling. "So - do you want to train some more, or have you completed today's quota of making everyone around you feel inadequate?"

"I don't do that!" protests Will. "I'm just minding my own business. In fact," he adds, "if anything,  _you're_ the one that makes everyone feel inadequate, with your super reflexes and all that." He waves a hand through the air before him as if trying to encompass "all that", and Ethan gives him a grin at that.

"I do not," he says, but they both know he does, however inadvertently. It's one of the reasons they prefer to train on their own, at a distance from the other agents in the training center. Too many eyes on them are distracting, and neither of them has ever been comfortable with anyone watching them train, being paranoid that it might give others the chance to learn their styles.

(Paranoia seems to run through the souls of every IMF agent, and with good cause, though in some more than others.)

"You haven't answered my question," Ethan says, watching as Will takes another drink from his bottle.

Will shrugs. "I was hoping to lift some weights, actually," he tells Ethan. "Wanna spot for me?"

"I doubt you need me to."

"All the same, I'd like you to. And I'll spot for you after, if you want."

Ethan shrugs as well. "Sure, why not, then?"

* * *

Will is halfway through his set when he pauses. It's very short, barely a second, and no one but Ethan notices. "You okay?" he asks, looking down at Will.

"Yeah," Will replies, continuing. "Someone's watching us, though." From his position lying down on the bench he can't see who it is, but he knows Ethan is going to find out and let him know.

As expected, he does. "It's one of the rookies," he informs Will, looking back to him again. "He looks kind of awed, to be honest."

"Why?" frowns Will. "I'm not doing anything particularly awe-inspiring."

"You're lifting 200 pounds," Ethan replies dryly.

"So?" questions Will. "You can do 250."

"Yeah, but  _he_ doesn't know that, does he?"

Will grins. "Want to show him?"

"William Brandt," says Ethan, mock-scandalized, "are you suggesting I show off?"

"Nothing of the sort," Will answers innocently. "I was merely suggesting that you take your turn, and afford me the glorious sight of you covered in sweat straining to lift 250 pounds."

Ethan laughs at that. "You work wonders for my ego," he says, helping Will rack the barbell before leaning down to kiss his forehead.

Will can't help but flush a little; even now, public displays of affection are a little alien to him, and always leave him feeling a strange mixture of warmth and awkwardness. He's never sure how to reciprocate, despite Ethan assuring him time and time again that he doesn't need to, he's never going to have to do something he's not entirely comfortable with. Will loves him for it.

"Well," he mutters, sitting up and reaching for his almost-empty water bottle. "You love me enough to kiss my sweaty-ass forehead, so obviously you're excellent for my ego as well."

Ethan laughs again as he adds 50 pounds to the barbell. "My pleasure," he says warmly, waiting for Will to get off the bench before assuming the supine position as Will moves to get behind him for spotting. "You are lovely to me even when you are gross with sweat."

"That's sort of disgusting," Will answers, wrinkling his nose. "Or it would be, if I didn't find you hot even when you're sweaty and gross."

"We should shower together," Ethan tells him as he begins bench-pressing. "To save water, of course."

"How very noble of you," laughs Will. "I assume you wish only to shower, and nothing else? After all," he adds, "any additional activity would only waste more water."

"Not if we're quick about it," Ethan says with a wink, and Will flushes again.

"I'm not opposed to the idea," he admits a second later, and then adds, "By the way, the rookie? Mouth open, eyes wide. It's kind of funny."

"I feel a little bad for him," Ethan comments. "We've probably ruined his workout routine and made him feel, as you say, inadequate."

"Or instead, we've motivated him to work harder," counters Will. "Could be either." Judging by how the rookie runs over to the weights stacked in the corner, it seems to be the latter. Good for him, thinks Will as he helps Ethan with the weights.

They finish the rest of Ethan's set in silence, save for Ethan's grunts of effort and the occasional comment from Will here and there. When it's over Will helps Ethan rack the weight and gives him a hand up, handing him his own water bottle (Ethan's ran out hours ago). "I was right, by the way," he says casually, nodding towards the rookie who is now working hard in his own corner. "He's motivated."

"Good for him," Ethan says, unwittingly echoing Will's thoughts. He gets up from the bench and hands Will his bottle back, and they begin walking towards the locker rooms. "Want to go out for coffee?" he asks as they get their things from the lockers.

"Sure," Will answers. "Shower first, though."

"Of course," Ethan says agreeably, giving Will a rather lascivious grin. "As great as your ass looks in those shorts, I'm sure it's going to look even better out of them."

"You're incorrigible," mutters Will, shaking his head even though he can't help the upward quirk of his lips. "And insatiable."

"Never denied it," Ethan confirms, taking Will's hand and leading him towards the showers. "Come on, let's go destroy a stall and break some rules, it's going to be  _great_."

And so they do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: i've started working out too :D i did like 200 crunches with around 90 pounds on my back and while it's not that impressive compared to will and ethan benchpressing upwards of 200 lbs, it's _something_ and i'm proud of myself despite the fact that my whole torso hates me now.
> 
> anyone got cool workout stories or anything? share in the comments!
> 
> love,  
> remy x


	10. baby you're a firework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by LadyCherryPie - one of them is an expert at something the other can't do. I hope you like it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SERIOUSLY FUCK THESE IMAGES. WHY WON'T YOU JUST FORMAT PROPERLY YOU PIECES OF SHIT.

**baby you're a firework**

The fire alarm goes off. Ethan sighs and puts the TV on mute, before getting off the sofa and padding into the kitchen.

"What were you trying to do?" he asks Will, who's dejectedly spraying the small fire with the extinguisher.

"I wanted to cook," he mutters.

The fire is still not out. Without another word Ethan brings the fire blanket and drapes it over the stove. After some sputtering and protesting, the fire goes out, leaving behind plumes of dark smoke and an acrid odor.

"Well," Ethan says, after a moment of staring at the pan, which is definitely not salvageable. "What exactly were you trying to cook?" He stares into the charred remains left over in the pan, trying to make out any recognizable ingredient, and fails.

Will shrugs, lips pulling down at the corners, and gives the whole thing up as a bad job. "Does it matter?" he mutters, opening the window to let the room air out. "Fucked it up, didn't I?"

Ethan considers the tense line of Will's shoulders and the expression on his face, and feels himself softening. "Come on," he says, going over to Will and taking his hand to tug him towards the bedroom. "Put some pants on."

Will looks down at his bare legs, clad in only his boxers, and then up at Ethan. "Why?"

"We're going out," Ethan tells him. "And then after that, I'm going to teach you how to cook without having us both perish in a fire."

"It wasn't that bad!" Will protests, but Ethan can see him trying to hide a smile.

* * *

 

"So," says Ethan casually, around half an hour later in their favorite diner, "what possessed you to try and cook today?"

"I wanted to make you a nice meal," Will tells him, before stealing a fry from Ethan's plate. "And also to prove to myself that I won't starve to death, should every restaurant and deli in the world shut down," he adds.

Ethan snorts. "Why would that happen?"

Will shrugs. "Nuclear winter, zombie apocalypse, sudden and untreatable virus pandemic... I don't know. Gotta be prepared, right?" He steals another fry from Ethan's plate.

"You have your own fries," Ethan sighs.

Will grins at him. "Yeah, so?"

Ethan gives up, acknowledging he'll never win this battle. "Never mind. What do you want to learn first?"

"Something simple, obviously," Will replies. "I don't know, grilled cheese? Like you said, something that won't result us dying in a fire."

"What a stupid way to go out," Ethan muses. "Died in a fire 'cause my husband can't cook."

Will retaliates by stealing Ethan's Coke. "Let me tell you a stupider way to go out," he retorts. "Died in a car crash 'cause my husband drives like a meth-addicted bat out of hell."

"It's not that bad!" Ethan protests.

"It's worse," Will counters. "Every mechanic on the East Coast knows you by name now. Last week Brassel called me into his office to beg me not to let you drive on the mission."

Ethan's eyes widen. "The  _bastard_."

"He's right," shrugs Will, finishing Ethan's Coke and taking up his own. Ethan has to look away - it's too damn distracting to see Will speaking around the straw.

"Fine," he acquiesces. " _Fine_. Let's make this interesting, though. If this cooking thing doesn't work out, I drive for the next month."

"Great," sighs Will. "So if we're not dying in a fire, we're dying in a car crash. Okay, then."

* * *

"Bread, cheese, butter, and a pan," Ethan enumerates. "Then you're good to go."

Will places all the required things on the counter. "Got 'em. Now?"

"Preheat the pan," instructs Ethan from where he's leaning with his hip against the counter, keeping a close eye on his husband, fire extinguisher and blanket at the ready just in case.

Will obeys, putting the pan on the stove and turning the heat up. "What if I burn it?" he asks.

"You won't," Ethan assures him. "Only an idiot can mess up a grilled cheese."

"Great, that'll help loads if I do mess it up," Will mutters sarcastically. "How do I know if the pan's heated?"

"Give it a minute," Ethan tells him. "Why don't you butter the bread in the meantime?"

Will snickers. "Give me five seconds and I'll find a way to turn that into innuendo."

"No thanks," says Ethan drily, "I'd rather not get weird mental images every time I look at a sandwich."

"You're no fun," grumbles Will. "Okay, I  _buttered the bread_ -" he sniggers, "now what?"

"Pan," is all Ethan says, and Will places the bread in. Immediately there is a sizzling sound, and the smell of butter permeates the air.

"Butter another slice," Ethan says, and then, in response to the grin forming on Will's face, " _no_."

Will sticks his tongue out, a rare display of immaturity that has Ethan fighting to hide a smile. He does as he's told and then puts the other slice in the pan as well, before putting cheese on it and flipping the first slice.

"You're doing well," Ethan tells him. "Your flipping technique needs some work though."

Will bursts out laughing. "Flipping technique! Give me five seconds and I'll-"

"No," Ethan interjects, before moving from his place against the counter and going to stand behind Will. "Do  _not_. Just-" He reaches out from behind Will and takes his hand by the wrist, his other hand going around Will's side to hold the pan handle. "Watch this," he says into the shell of Will's ear, and flips the first slice on top of the second. "See, it's nice and brown now."

Will's breath catches, and Ethan grins to himself. "What, no more innuendo?" he teases.

"You're doing this on purpose," Will murmurs, turning the stove off and putting the sandwich on a plate. "You're awful."

Ethan takes the plate and spatula from Will's hands and sets them aside, before tightening his embrace around Will and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "Don't hear you complaining."

"This  _is_ me complaining," Will informs him, but he's leaning back into Ethan.

"At least we're not on fire," Ethan murmurs.

"Always a plus point," Will agrees. "Also, I'm driving from now on."

Ethan's hand begins traveling south. "Can we negotiate?"

"No," Will says, but it's half-hearted at best. "It's non-negotiable."

"May I try?"

"Well, when you ask like that..."

The sandwich is left abandoned on the counter top when the "negotiations" begin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made myself crave a grilled cheese as i wrote this, but we're out of bread and i'm too lazy to go buy more :/ also, it's midnight, and all respectable grocery stores near my place are closed now. such is life *deep sigh*
> 
> let me know what you thought!  
> love,  
> remy x


End file.
